I remembered her words from earlier:
"I'll be chasing you, miss you, crave you… until you're mine."
I smiled at the memory, though it stirred something deeper inside me—maybe fear, maybe longing. Probably both.
I poured myself a glass of wine and lit a candle. Read a poem. Let the silence sit with me. But I couldn't shake the thought of her. I texted a few friends, tried to sculpt some distraction out of the night… but it wasn't working.
Eventually, I passed out on the couch.
When I woke up, it was still pitch dark. My phone was buzzing. Strange, I thought.
A call… from Everett? At this hour?
"Uh, hello?" I answered, voice groggy.
"Edwin?" A guy's voice. I instantly tensed.
"Yes? Who is this? And why are you calling from her phone?"
"You dont even recognise my voice now huh?"
"ADAM"
"Yes, it's me. Don't panic—everett is fine, just drunk. She already booked a cab for me and Amy, but she insisted on calling one for herself. However, a drunk girl alone in a cab isn't ideal, so I strongly suggest you come pick her up."
I sighed. "Of course text me the location."
He texted me the location. Damn that's far. I grabbed my keys and drove through the chilled, quiet streets. When I got there, I found her sitting on the curb with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the sky like it might give her answers.
"Hey," I called softly.
She looked up, eyes glossy but warm. "Took you long enough."
She tried to stand, but swayed slightly. I caught her before she could fall. She let herself lean into me—no resistance, just trust.
"Couldn't let you crash in some stranger's house," I said as I guided her into the car.
Before I could say anything else, she handed me her phone with the address typed out. By the time we were halfway there, she had already dozed off.
When we got to her place, I realized I didn't know the pin to unlock the door. I tried waking her—softly nudging her, whispering her name—but she didn't stir.
I sighed, ready for a long night, and typed in a guess. I expected something complicated or deeply personal.
It was 0000.
I stared at it for a second—simple, innocent, almost childlike. Somehow, it felt fitting.
I carried her inside, her head resting against my shoulder, and made my way to the bedroom. The apartment was quiet, dimly lit, and still smelled faintly of vanilla and wine.
I laid her down on the bed, careful not to wake her, and gently removed her suit jacket and heels. She murmured something I couldn't make out, her lashes fluttering briefly, but then she settled again—so peaceful it almost hurt to look at her.
Just as I turned to leave, I felt a small tug on my sleeve.
"Can you stay?" she mumbled.
I hesitated only a second. "Of course."
I lay beside her, facing the other direction, trying to give her space.
Then I felt her hand slide across my chest, pulling me closer. She cuddled into me like we had done this a thousand times before. Her breath evened out. Mine didn't.
I stayed awake longer than I meant to, listening to her breathing—wondering how someone could feel so close and so far all at once.
The next morning, I woke to the smell of something warm and buttery. She wasn't in bed. I stumbled into the kitchen, and there she was, hair tied up, wearing an oversized T-shirt, setting breakfast plates on the table.
"Good morning," she said with a soft smile.
"I'm shocked you didn't burn the place down," I teased.
She laughed. "I made a little bit of everything. Just in case I suck at cooking—you at least have options."
I tasted the salad. "Wow… actually good."
"You sound surprised."
"I am surprised."
She rolled her eyes. "Eat. Or I'll make you eat burnt toast next time."
I sat across from her, still processing the shift in her—the gentleness, the way she moved like she belonged.
And then she said something that made me choke a little on my coffee.
"I have a date today."
I blinked. "Oh. With… who?"
She leaned in, smirking. "With you. Obviously."
And then she kissed me, like it was the most natural thing in the world.